Hannibal: I'm Twisted Up (When I'm Twisted With You)
by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: Young Hannibal Lecter doesn't know how to pretend to be normal. Neither does a young Will Graham. Maybe they can learn together. See warnings inside.
1. The New Boy

**Author's Note:**

**Pairing:** Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

**Title: **Dance Inside by The All-American Rejects

**Warnings: **Warnings will be listed in each individual chapter

**Disclaimer: **Hannibal belongs to NBC. The original characters are the property of Thomas Harris. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

* * *

**Summary: **Hannibal Lecter is the new boy at _Chilton's Academy for Young Gentlemen. _It's clear that he's odd from the beginning, but what Hannibal didn't expect was to find a friend- and perhaps more- in fellow student and roommate Will Graham.

**Warnings: **dark!Will, dark!Hannibal, violence, homophobic language

* * *

His reputation had proceeded him. Hannibal had gone through the same routine in his last seven boarding schools, so wasn't expecting anything differently here. The teachers were torn between being amazed at his intellect, and being fearful that he'd burn the school down with everybody inside. Hannibal had no plans to, but seeing as how it _was _a possibility, he decided not to think too badly of them for their fears.

Hannibal had been forced to fly commercially, his uncle having needed his private jet for business, so had arrived later than originally planned. He'd missed orientation and classes had already begun, so Hannibal was alone as he walked through the large, dark halls of _Chilton's Academy for Young Gentlemen_.

It was a horrid name, Hannibal mused, used by a man who thought himself better than he was; who wanted to prove to everybody at first glance that he should be respected for his intellect, his money, and his station. Seeing as how he was nothing more than a doctor with a rather large inheritance, Hannibal didn't see the need to show him _any _respect. He did, of course; it would be rude not to greet the Headmaster politely, with either "doctor" or "sir". And Hannibal Lecter was anything but rude.

'Have you been shown your room?' Dr Chilton asked when Hannibal had declined coffee, tea, and soda, taking one of the plush leather chairs before Dr Chilton's large mahogany desk.

'Yes,' Hannibal inclined his head. 'I believe I'm sharing with a boy named William Graham.'

Chilton's entire face twitched, the man unable to hide even the simplest of emotions. Hannibal was intrigued; who was Will Graham to make Frederick Chilton salivate like that?

'I see, I see,' Chilton nodded and hummed, trying to appear only mildly interested. 'And you haven't met him yet?'

'No, I'm assuming he's in class with everybody else.'

Chilton nodded again and shifted through the papers on his desk. He wasn't organised, leaving everything in heaps. Hannibal would have assumed he'd have had everything prepared for Hannibal's arrival; another mark against the doctor.

'Ah, here's your schedule,' Chilton beamed, showing too many teeth. Hannibal ignored the gesture and took the paper, maroon eyes flicking over the neatly printed words.

It seemed that he had six classes a day, with two breaks, a half-hour one and one an hour and a half. The dining hall was open from six to seven-thirty am, and again open for breaks, and later dinner. The students had to be in their rooms by a specific time, those in the older years having more free time. Their weekends were completely free, but a pass was needed to leave campus and travel to the small town a few miles away.

'Now, is there anything you want to discuss, Mr Lecter?' Chilton asked, all bright eyes and shiny teeth.

He was trying too hard to be Hannibal's friend, which the teenager found distasteful; Hannibal was sixteen-years-old, Chilton in his mid-thirties. Hannibal needed a _principal_, not a _friend_. Chilton was supposed to demand respect from his students, while still being someone that they could talk to. He tried too hard.

'No,' Hannibal said, 'though I understand that I'm supposed to talk weekly with the school therapist.'

'We prefer to think of Dr Bloom as a counsellor,' Chilton replied. 'But yes, you'll speak with her once a week until she sees fit to either see you less frequently, or not at all.'

Hannibal nodded. It was understandable; he was an orphan, had had a difficult childhood, and had severe behavioural problems at all his other boarding schools. He'd be more concerned if Dr Chilton _hadn't _ordered therapy.

'May I go now?' Hannibal asked. 'According to my schedule I can make it to English with Mr David.'

'Of course, of course,' Chilton clapped his hands together and stood. 'I hope you find your time at _Chilton's Academy for Young Gentlemen _educational, Mr Lecter.'

Hannibal held back a smirk and gave Chilton a polite nod. 'I'm sure I will, Dr Chilton,' he said before leaving. He seriously doubted it.

{oOo}

Like all schools, the classroom seemed to be divided into threes; the devout, the indifferent, and the idiotic. The devout sat in the first few rows, eyes on the teacher or the white board, taking notes religiously and never once talking out of turn. The indifferent took notes, but were more interested in yawning or gazing out the windows, at their desks, some scratching at the dark wood with the ends of their pens. And, of course, there were the idiotic; those only attending such an elite school because their parents had too much money and not enough time for their children. They heckled the teacher and threw things at each other, made life difficult for those unfortunate enough to sit within their line of fire.

Those were the students who grinned at Hannibal as he entered the classroom, mouths practically salivating at the smell of fresh meat. Hannibal ignored them, and the class as a whole, and handed his late slip to the teacher, Mr David. He'd run into Dr Bloom when leaving Dr Chilton's office, and she'd wanted to "chat" before he went to class. She'd written him a slip, but Hannibal would have preferred to speak to her when he was forced to, not when she jumped him.

'Ah, yes, of course,' Mr David fiddled with his glasses, casting a suspicious eye at Hannibal. No doubt wondering if he was the devout, the indifferent, or the idiotic. His intellect would point towards the former, his behaviour the latter. Hannibal preferred to think of himself as chaotic neutral; don't push him, and he won't push back. Unless he was bored. Mr David finally cleared his throat and turned to the class. 'Class, this is Hannibal Lecter, the new student. I'm sure you'll all treat him with the respect he deserves.' The devout nodded, the indifferent just stared, and the idiotic grinned at each other. 'Hannibal, would you like to tell us a bit about yourself?'

Hannibal bit back a sigh. It was always the same, and this dance was one that he'd no doubt go through in a number of his other classes. If the teachers didn't want to alienate the new students, they shouldn't dangle them before a pack of hungry wolves.

Or dogs, in the idiotic cases.

'As you have already been told, my name is Hannibal Lecter,' Hannibal drawled, 'I was sent here by my uncle, Count Lecter, after being expelled from my boarding school in Germany.'

It had been his seventh, this one currently his eighth. Before that had been Paris, Denmark, and a brief time in Lithuania.

'I will only say this once,' Hannibal said, letting his sharp maroon eyes rove over his fellow students, 'any jokes made about my name, my accent, or anything about my person will be met with violence.' Mr David coughed, and a few students snickered. 'From personal experience I know that this won't deter the more simple-minded students currently sitting in this room,' Hannibal said. 'If that is the case, all I can say is that I _did _warn you, and any bodily harm you find yourself suffering from will be your own fault.'

With that said, he looked at Mr David. 'I'm going to sit down now.'

It was a statement, not a question, and Mr David could do little but nod dumbly as Hannibal moved between the rows. He took a seat near the back, far enough away from the bigger bullies to remain out of their sights for now, but not so far away that they'd think he was scared of them.

The desks all seated two, and this table was the only that housed one person. The boy was short for his age, with thick, curly brown hair, pale skin, and a fine trail of stubble across his soft face. He wore glasses that hid his eyes from view, eyes that briefly darted to Hannibal, but hid behind the dark frames.

Hannibal smiled slightly but focused on unpacking his bag. If the boy didn't want to make friends, then Hannibal certainly wasn't going to push.

The class settled after Hannibal's introduction, and soon Mr David was droning about old texts and new that the majority of the class clearly had no desire to study. Hannibal paid just enough attention to learn that he already knew the information being discussed, and then devoted his time to contemplating the meal plan at _Chilton Academy_. The food would no doubt be better than most fair served at your typical American high school, but Hannibal was very particular about what he put into his body. If _Chilton's _failed to meet his standards, he'd contact his uncle and have food flown in just for him. Uncle Robert never did mind catering to Hannibal's every whim, as long as Hannibal worked for what he had.

Hannibal was brought from his musings by the realisation that the teacher was speaking to the boy beside him. Hannibal glanced at him to see the boy fidgeting, pen tapping against his notebook, eyes darting from the teacher, to the boy sitting in front of him, and then to his notebook, gaze never staying in the same place for long.

Mr David sighed. 'Have you read the material, Will?'

_Will? _Hannibal thought. _I wonder..._

'Y-Yes,' Will stuttered, but still didn't look up.

'And?' Mr David asked.

Will opened his mouth to answer the question, but folded at the last second and slammed his teeth together, head shaking from side to side. Mr David sighed again and made a mark on the roster, no doubt a strike against Will's behaviour.

He went back to talking, the class soon moving on from snickering at Will to either pay attention or doodle in their notebooks.

'If you knew the answer,' Hannibal spoke softly, making Will jump, 'why didn't you say it?'

'I... uh... w-what makes you think I knew?' Will finally got out. His head was turned in Hannibal's direction, but his eyes were darting from Hannibal's ironed school shirt, to his tie, to his chin and back again.

'You knew,' Hannibal stated.

Will snorted lightly and looked away, once more facing the front of the room. 'If I answered,' he mumbled, 'it wouldn't make any difference. I'd be bullied for being _smart_, and bullied for stuttering. Better to keep quiet.'

'And earn a mark against your name,' Hannibal hummed. He could see how a teacher's annoyance would be preferable to being a target by bullies, especially for someone of Will's stature and apparent disposition. Teachers could be won over; bullies, not so much. 'Are you William Graham?' Hannibal queried.

Will jolted slightly before nodding. 'Yeah,' he said, 'and you're Hannibal Lecter.'

'Clearly,' Hannibal said in some amusement, seeing as how his name had been stated twice just after his arrival. Will also would have been informed on orientation day that Hannibal would be his new roommate.

'Did you really get expelled from your last school?' Will asked.

'Yes,' Hannibal said, 'and the one before that. The others all asked me, politely, to leave.'

'Why?' Will asked. Hannibal looked at him, and Will's eyes met his briefly before widening and darting away. 'I didn't mean to be rude,' he mumbled, 'but we're, uh...'

'Sharing a room,' Hannibal finished for him. 'Yes, I can see how knowing my temperament might help.' Will just nodded. 'I had behaviour issues,' Hannibal shared, 'particularly with anger. A few students rubbed me the wrong way, and I snapped.'

He glanced at Will, and again met the younger boy's eyes very briefly.

'Don't rub me the wrong way, Will, and we won't have a problem.'

'Okay,' Will nodded, 'seems fair.'

Hannibal offered the other boy a rare smile and, surprisingly, Will smiled back. It was hesitant, and Will clearly wasn't used to actually _smiling _at anyone, but it was a smile none the less.

_Fascinating_, Hannibal thought as he turned back to his work.

{oOo}

Hannibal and Will shared about half their classes, so Hannibal saw him more often than not. Hannibal was forced to spend his first break in the office trying to find a new copy of the textbook needed for his advanced mathematics class, and his next three classes weren't shared with Will, so they didn't see each other again until lunch.

They shared the same lunch period, and Hannibal was surprised to find himself looking forward to Will's company. Hannibal was charming, but he was _odd_, and he never really felt the inclination to make friends, so usually spent most of his time alone. Will, however, fascinated Hannibal; he was intelligent, kind, sensitive, and suffered just as many mental illnesses as Hannibal himself. He didn't have Hannibal's coldness, though, or his indifference, which made Hannibal want to study him. They were both alienated by their peers and their elders, but they'd both developed into very different people. Hannibal wanted to know why.

He also wanted to catch another, longer, glimpse of the darkness that lurked just behind Will Graham's eyes. Their short time together had told Hannibal that Will Graham had an excess amount of empathy; it had led to him avoiding eye contact at all costs, which had further alienated him from those his own age. He'd barely held eye contact with Hannibal, and when he did he jumped, as though he'd skimmed over the surface of Hannibal's deepest desires. Hannibal knew how dark his desires truly were, so wasn't surprised that Will would be concerned- _terrified_- about what he'd seen.

But what was _truly _interesting was the darkness that had met Hannibal's own, only briefly, but still there, buried under layers of anxiety, stutters, and avoided contact. Will Graham, the boy who could read minds and emotions, apparently finding a kindred spirit in the dark, dangerous psyche of Hannibal Lecter.

It was delicious.

Hannibal entered the dining hall and joined the rather long queue to collect his lunch. Thankfully there was a multitude of foods available, and Hannibal was able to pick chicken curry with a side salad and chips that didn't make his lips curl too much. He added a chocolate pudding to his tray and turned, eyes skimming the crowded hall.

Will was sitting alone, which wasn't surprising. Hannibal made his way quickly over to the young boy and asked, 'May I join you?' before sitting. Hannibal abhorred rude people, and would never stoop so low himself unless absolutely necessary.

Will jumped, but smiled when he realised that it was Hannibal. 'Of course,' he said and gestured to the table. It was large, made of wood with long, narrow stools instead of seats, and could seat six comfortably. Hannibal sat at the end opposite Will, and made sure to keep his eyes on his food as he laid his napkin over his lap. He had already deduced that Will did better in social situations when allowed to slowly settle into them at his own pace. Hannibal was in no hurry to dissect Will's brain, so let the other boy grow comfortable with his presence.

It was odd, Hannibal could admit. He cared little about anyone, even his uncle, who had saved him from the cold, harsh rooms of a small Lithuanian orphanage. Everybody he'd met in his life, from his fellow classmates to his teachers, even strangers, were little more than blips on Hannibal's radar. But Will Graham had somehow managed to worm his way past Hannibal's defences without trying, and all within a five hour period. Truly interesting.

'So,' Will cleared his throat, hesitated, as if unsure just _why _he was starting a conversation in the first place, 'how are you enjoying _Chilton's _so far?'

'It's as dull as every other boarding school I've been to,' Hannibal admitted. 'I find that I learn better when allowed to go at my own pace, and when allowed to study subjects that catch my interest. Cramming hundreds of boys into a few small buildings and expecting them all to learn at the same pace is ridiculous.'

'Yeah,' Will chuckled, 'the education system, huh? No wonder so many of us turn into psychopaths.'

Hannibal glanced up at the last word. 'Do you find psychopaths interesting, Will?'

'Sort of,' Will shrugged. 'Possibly because doctors have tried to diagnose me as one in the past.'

That brought an amused tilt to Hannibal's lips. 'You aren't a psychopath, Will.'

'I know,' Will snorted. 'I'm a messed up young man with too much empathy.'

'You'll learn to control it, in time,' Hannibal stated. The assurance in his voice startled Will, who met his eyes.

'You think so?' he asked.

Hannibal nodded. 'All you need is the right psychiatrist to teach you coping mechanisms that work for you. When you discover what is effective in calming you down, in pulling you out of the minds of those around you, you will be able to lead a happy, healthy life.'

Will stared at him for a moment longer, the longest eye contact he'd ever held with Hannibal, before glancing away. 'You... th-think so?' he asked again, voice softer, this time; hopeful.

'Indeed,' Hannibal replied.

Will chuckled softly and gave Hannibal an amused smile. 'Thanks, Dr Lecter.'

Hannibal laughed, and Will's eyes lit up, as though he wanted to drown in the sound. Hannibal could understand the feeling; Will's smile was like a breath of fresh air after the stagnant hallways of a cluttered house. Hannibal wondered, briefly, if he'd ever be able to truly figure out Will Graham. He'd known the boy less than a day, and already he was captivated.

'I hope to one day be a surgeon, Will,' Hannibal told him.

'Then you should get used to the title,' Will teased.

'What do you want to be?' Hannibal asked.

Will shrugged one shoulder. 'A cop, maybe, or a vet. I want to help people.'

'And animals,' Hannibal added.

'Yeah,' Will nodded. 'Animals don't judge people.'

'You mean they don't judge you,' Hannibal said.

Will's eyes met his again, but this time they were narrowed, dark. 'Are you trying to psychoanalyse me?' he demanded.

Hannibal smiled briefly. 'I'm afraid that I can't switch it off, Will. I've been around far too many psychiatrists, and I've picked up their tricks. Forgive me.'

'It's... fine,' Will said slowly, 'it's just... you wouldn't like me, if you really saw me.'

'Wouldn't I?' Hannibal queried.

Will pushed his vegetable stew around, pushing vegetables beneath the dark brown broth, as though drowning them. He finally looked up again, and Hannibal let some of the monster within out, the darkness bleeding into his eyes. He could only just hide it, but people could still _sense _that there was something off about him- not enough to really pry, but just enough to make them weary.

Hannibal had never allowed anybody to see the real him, not even his uncle, not even a little piece. For some reason, he wanted Will to know.

Hannibal was rewarded with the darkening of Will's eyes; not only did his pupils widen, but the light blue-grey of his irises seemed to suddenly be swamped by something else; some primal hunger that wasn't allowed in polite company.

Hannibal smirked.

Slowly, Will returned it.

Their moment- and Hannibal was sure that it was a moment, even though he wasn't sure _what _kind of moment- was interrupted when something slammed into the back of Will's head with a wet _splat_. Will's upper body was forced forward before he could right himself, and he winced when he reached back to touch his head. His hand came away covered in mashed potatoes and gravy, and Will growled as he turned to see who had thrown it. Hannibal did, too.

A group of boys- seven, all crammed onto their table- were laughing uproariously at Will's sate. One- a dark-skinned by with close-cropped hair- still had a spoon in his hand, his plate holding the remains of steak and mashed potatoes.

'Goddamn it,' Will grunted and turned back around.

'Hey, Graham!' the boy shouted. 'Who's your boyfriend?'

Will growled again but grabbed his napkin to start cleaning himself up.

'You aren't going to do anything?' Hannibal asked.

Will took a deep breath before saying, 'As much as I'd like to, it wouldn't do any good. Tobias is bigger than me, stronger, and he's got a bunch of idiots working with him. They'd throw me in the lake again.'

Hannibal had been shown the lake earlier that year, when he and his uncle had toured _Chilton's _before Hannibal was enrolled. It was large, filled with debris from hundreds of school boys' lunches, the water dank and sickly smelling.

'He's thrown you in?' Hannibal asked, voice hardening.

Will nodded. 'Multiple times. His friends, too.'

'Their names?' Hannibal demanded.

Will looked up, curious, but didn't comment on Hannibal's darkening face. 'Tobias Budge, Abel Gideon, and Garret Jacob Hobbs are the ring-leaders. The others are nobodys, they don't start anything if they're alone.'

Hannibal inclined his head. 'Tobias is the one who threw potatoes at you?'

Will nodded, then jumped when Hannibal stood. 'Hannibal!' he called, but Hannibal ignored him in favour of walking over to Budge's table.

The dark-skinned boy looked up at him with an evil grin, one usually found on repeat offenders. One day, and soon, Budge would find himself on the end of a lethal injection. That was if Hannibal didn't find some way to make him disappear first.

'What do you want?' Budge demanded.

'I want you to apologise for throwing potatoes at Will,' Hannibal stated. 'And I want you to promise that you won't do it again.'

Budge stared at him in disbelief briefly before laughing, his friends joining in. Hannibal just waited patiently, demeanour relaxed, face blank. 'Are you serious?' Budge snorted.

'I'm always serious,' Hannibal replied.

Budge laughed again. 'Listen, Hanni,' he started, and Hannibal's eyes narrowed. _Strike one_. 'Will's a little faggot.' _Strike two._ 'You'd better just stay away with him, alright? He's not much good.'

'Well, he makes good hunting,' a boy with short brown hair said, earning laughs from the others.

'Yeah,' Budge grinned. He turned back to Hannibal.

'You're not going to apologise to Will?' Hannibal tried one last time.

Budge's grin morphed into a twisted smirk. 'You, and Graham, can suck my dick.'

_Strike three_.

There was silence for one, maybe two seconds, before Hannibal reacted. He wrapped his fingers around Budge's pristine tie and _pulled_. Budge's face slammed into the table once, twice, _three _times before Hannibal let him go. Blood was gushing from Budge's broken nose and mouth, but Hannibal ignored it as he pushed Budge back, the taller boy hitting the floor with a dull _thud_.

Budge's friends scrambled back, shouting in surprise, and the shocked silence that had fallen upon the dining hall at Hannibal's actions erupted. Boys screamed and shouted, teachers called for order, and Hannibal straddled Budge's body. He wrapped both hands around Budge's face, and grinned when Budge's terrified eyes met his.

Hannibal _squeezed_, and Budge's friends tried to drag him back, but they couldn't get a grip, Hannibal wouldn't let go. Budge choked for air and his face darkened before going pale, the life draining from him slowly.

'Hannibal!'

Will's shout brought Hannibal back to himself, and it let one of Budge's friends and a teacher finally pull him free. Budge's entire body heaved as he sucked in air, the boy choking on blood as he gaped. Hannibal allowed himself to be led away, eyes down as he was dragged from the dining room. He only briefly saw Will, standing on the edge of things, eyes trained on Hannibal from behind his glasses.

Will's eyes were dark, and a smirk was twisting at his lips.

Hannibal's heart skipped a beat.

{oOo}

'I didn't think you'd still be here,' Will admitted when Hannibal found him. The older boy hummed as he joined Will on the small bench. Will was staring out at the lake he'd mentioned earlier that day, eyes roaming the pristine, mirror-like surface.

'My uncle is a wealthy, well-connected man,' Hannibal explained, 'Dr Chilton didn't want to lose him as a benefactor. I faked the proper emotions to show that I regretted my actions, and managed to leave with a warning in my permanent record, and two sessions a week with Dr Bloom.'

'She's easy to get along with,' Will told him. 'But be careful. She's good at digging.'

'I doubt that she'll be able to find what every other psychiatrist has missed.'

'You mean your psychopathy?' Will queried.

Hannibal chuckled. 'Do I fit all the indicators of a psychopath, Will?'

'No,' Will answered immediately. 'At least, not yet. You're too different to be a psychopath.'

'Indeed,' Hannibal mused.

'I feel like a chess piece,' Will admitted, drawing Hannibal's gaze, 'like the world is a chess board, and you're the person moving the pieces.'

'Why am I the game master?' Hannibal asked. 'Why don't you see me as a fellow chess piece?'

Will grinned. 'You're too smart to be a chess piece, Hannibal.'

'As are you,' Hannibal replied, making Will snort. 'What do you see yourself as?' Hannibal asked. 'What piece?'

'Some days I'm a pawn; little use,' Will admitted. 'Sometimes I'm a knight, because knights move differently to everyone else, and you've already said that you think I'm different.'

Hannibal nodded, and didn't push when Will went silent for a minute, two, before turning to look at Hannibal, blue eyes on maroon.

'Sometimes I'm a queen,' he continued. 'The most valuable piece besides the king himself, but the one everybody wants to protect.'

'I see,' Hannibal mused. 'And if you could see me as a chess piece, what would I be?'

'You'd be a rook,' Will stated with certainty. 'You're valuable, and dangerous, but you have standards and rules. Other people might not understand them, but you _do _have them. That makes you predictable, but only if people can work them out. And if they can, it'll probably be too late.'

Hannibal stared at him, and Will held his gaze. Something within Hannibal, something dark and primal, so full of violence and the need for blood, connected with something in Will that was similar; they weren't the same, but close enough. Close enough to _understand_.

'I'm not normal,' Will murmured, eyes still on Hannibal's.

'Neither am I,' Hannibal replied. 'But perhaps we can learn to pretend together.'

Will was silent, digesting Hannibal's offer. Until, suddenly, he closed the distance between them and kissed him.

His lips were chapped but warm, tongue equally so when Hannibal swiped against Will's lips, begging entrance. Will granted it and they duelled for dominance before Will let him in, let Hannibal _lead_.

Will tasted like darkness. And a promise.


	2. Uncle Robertus

**Summary: **Count Robertus Lecter visits his nephew, and gets to briefly witness Hannibal's relationship with young Will Graham.

**Warnings: **None

* * *

Robertus sighed softly as his nephew continued to remain silent in the seat beside him. He'd entered Dr Chilton's office with a polite greeting, only to immediately fall silent when setting eyes on his uncle.

Robertus couldn't blame the lad; sometimes, though rarely, Hannibal regressed to the mute boy that Robertus and his dear wife had found in a Lithuanian orphanage. Hannibal had made great progress since that time- too much progress, some of his therapists had commented- but every so often he fell back into his old mindset; staying quiet protected him, staying quiet meant _safety_.

_One step forward, two steps back_, Robertus mused to himself.

Dr Chilton- a rather annoying, bland man, Robertus thought- seemed to think that Robertus would blame Hannibal's behaviour on him, and was fidgeting like a child in his seat, eyes darting between the two Lecters.

'Well, uh, Dr Bloom's been telling me that your nephew _has _made progress,' he tried.

'Mm,' Robertus hummed. He knew without a doubt that Hannibal would not progress beyond what he already had. Hannibal was a functioning person, and would easily slip into society when he graduated and went on to do whatever he set his vast intelligence to.

But Robertus doubted that the horrors Hannibal had seen in his short life could ever be forgotten or healed. No, Hannibal was too clever. The first therapist had worked wonders, the second a little less, and the third had failed miserably. Those three had been enough for Hannibal to pick up on their tricks, on what they _wanted _to hear. He was easily able to deflect even the most skilled minds away from what he truly wanted to hide, and what he truly felt. No, it would take a very, _very _clever mind to peel back Hannibal's layers and be allowed to peak at the person beneath.

'Erm...' Chilton hesitated.

'It's quite alright, Dr Chilton,' Robertus turned a brief smile on the man, 'he gets like this, sometimes; teenagers, you know.'

Dr Chilton nodded briefly, still looking concerned and mildly terrified, but Robertus ignored him.

'Perhaps Hannibal would feel more comfortable showing me his new home,' Robertus decided and stood. It was clear that Hannibal never truly felt comfortable at any of his boarding schools, but then again he'd never been comfortable at any of Robertus' homes, either. Robertus didn't think that the boy would feel safe until he had his own house, bought from his own money; a place he could decorate and claim as his own safe haven. 'Hannibal?'

Hannibal nodded once, curtly, before standing. He wrapped a hand around the strap of his side-bag and led the way from the office, Robertus letting the door shut on Dr Chilton with a soft click.

A few teachers nodded at Robertus, having met the man when he and Hannibal had toured the school a few months ago. A few even said polite hellos to Hannibal but he, of course, ignored them all. Not one of the students, who were all making their ways around the school, classes over for the day, spoke to Hannibal, and every few actually looked his way. Those who did glanced at Hannibal only briefly before their eyes hastily darted aside, and Robertus sighed to himself each and every time. He had, of course, been informed of Hannibal's behaviour three weeks prior, which was one of the reasons for his visit. Violence on Hannibal's part was nothing new, though violence on behalf of another was certainly something that interested the older Lecter.

Hannibal had no friends; he hadn't, not once in the six years that he had lived with Robertus, ever made or mentioned a friend. That he would go out of his way to punish someone for their slight on another human being was fascinating, and the boy- Will Graham, Dr Chilton had said his name was- was someone whom Robertus would like to meet.

They walked down hallway after hallway, occasionally taking a turn here, a turn there, and not once did Hannibal stop or make any type of noise. He merely stepped around those who didn't step aside for him, not looking back, trusting his uncle to be following. Eventually they left the main building to cross the grounds, heading for one of the dormitories. _Hawkins_, it was named, if Robertus remembered correctly.

This building was slightly smaller, two storeys, with dark blue walls, dark-stained floorboards, and rooms on either side of the corridors. Finally Hannibal stopped at room 24, his and this Will Graham's. He knocked briefly, but when there was no answer he pushed his way inside, placing his bag at the end of one of the beds and toeing his shoes off.

Robertus did the same, respecting his nephew's personal space, and glanced around the room as he did. There were no posters, like one might expect in a room inhabited by two teenage boys. The walls were bare, a creamy-white, the ceiling the same dull colour. There were two beds either side of the room, with two small side tables in-between just before the one window, dark blue curtains framing the glass. There was a desk at the end of either bed, a bookcase sitting atop each, and on either side of the door stood a very narrow set of draws, a wardrobe crammed into each corner.

All in all, it was your typical dormitory room, far smaller than any of the rooms Hannibal occupied in Robertus' personal homes. Still, it wasn't anything that Hannibal wasn't used to by now, this being his eighth boarding school. And, Robertus hoped, his last.

'I see you and your roommate keep a tidy room,' Robertus commented. Hannibal just nodded. 'How are your studies going?' he then asked, hoping that it'd be enough to get Hannibal to speak. It wasn't, the boy simply staring at him with his strange maroon eyes. It was a trait he and his sister shared with their late mother- well, _had _shared, seeing as how Hannibal was the last one left.

Hannibal looked a lot like his mother; his ashen hair, high cheekbones, and olive skin were all distinct traits that had belonged to Simonetta. Mischa had been all Mykolas, Robertus' late brother; honey blonde curls, light blue eyes, and pale, clear skin.

Robertus sighed slightly, a pang of grief that would never fade spearing right through his heart. He still remembered the day that he had finally been contacted by someone living in his brother's little village. He had expected to hear about Hannibal's schooling, or perhaps another baby (Hannibal had been planned, Mischa a delightful surprise).

It had been terrible news, though; Mykolas and Simonetta had died in a tragic car accident, and Hannibal and Mischa had been sent to the local orphanage, a rather horrible place, from Robertus' memory. He'd hastened to Lithuania, his lawyers working for their money as they tried to get the boy signed over to his uncle's care. Robertus had expected to find a brother and sister living with grief, their childhoods changed forever by one simple accident.

Instead he'd found a boy who hadn't spoken in over a year; almost twelve-years-old, jaunt with malnourishment, eyes dark like old blood and bruises marking his face and arms. There had been such_ darkness _in Hannibal's eyes, a part of the boy screaming for blood and violence. Robertus hadn't known how to react; couldn't even begin to imagine what had caused such a change in the clever, bright-eyed boy he'd seen almost four years earlier.

Then he'd learned that Mischa had disappeared, her body never recovered, Hannibal left to defend only himself against the men and children who bullied all of those who resided at the orphanage. Robertus didn't doubt that Hannibal knew exactly what had happened to his sister; something had stripped his innocence, his purity, away, like a blade taken to soft, red flesh, and nothing was going to bring it back.

Hannibal certainly hadn't shared exactly what had happened with Robertus or his wife, and Robertus doubted that he'd shared with his many therapists, either. No, Mischa was a hurt that Hannibal would carry to his grave, hidden deep within the cage that had once housed a full human heart.

Robertus shook himself from his thoughts when Hannibal sat at his desk. The boy made no move to pick up a book, or start on his homework. He just continued to stare at Robertus, as though the Count were the one remaining silent, refusing to speak. Hannibal was a curious boy, had been even before he'd changed irrevocably.

'So you don't want to discuss your school work?' Robertus tried again.

He was met with a blank stare.

'Okay,' Robertus sighed. He decided to sit at the other desk, opposite Hannibal, and tried to make himself comfortable as best he could on such a flimsy piece of wood. 'You know that I'd never force you to talk if you don't want to,' Robertus continued, 'but I'd like to know that your past behaviour isn't going to make a reappearance.

Hannibal blinked slowly.

'I'll take that as a, "yes, Uncle, I'll try my hardest", and tell Murasaki that you send your apologies and regards.'

Hannibal perked up only slightly at the mention of his aunt, a woman he'd taken to rather quickly considering his usual temperament. While Robertus was slightly jealous of the ease in which his lovely wife could connected with the boy, he was more thankful for the fact that she simply _could_.

'She wanted me to ask you if you've kept up your piano playing,' Robertus continued, as though he and Hannibal were having an actual conversation. 'I know for a fact that the music rooms at this school house at least three separate pianos. Too bad there isn't a harpsichord, I know how you prefer it.'

Hannibal, of course, didn't utter a word. Robertus had just resigned himself to having a one-sided conversation with his nephew for the entire trip when there was a soft knock at the door. Hannibal _perked up_, maroon eyes light in a way Robertus hadn't seen them since Murasaki had gifted the boy with his very first harpsichord.

Rather than ask who it was- and receive no answer- Robertus leaned back and watched as Hannibal stood to answer the door.

The boy who entered was slighter than Hannibal- shorter, too- with a thick nest of messy brown curls and blue or grey eyes hidden behind prescription glasses. His uniform was just neat enough to avoid detention, but sloppy enough to show that he cared very little for how he looked. The boy smiled brightly at Hannibal before his eyes darted to Robertus, and then away again, before settling somewhere on the perfect Windsor knot of Robertus' tie.

'Hello there,' Robertus greeted the skittish young man. 'I'm Robertus Lecter, Hannibal's uncle. You can call me Robert.' He usually went by Robert in the States and England; something about the strong, familiar name set them at ease when doing business with the Lithuanian.

'Oh, um, h-hello, Mr Robert,' the boy replied, still not making eye contact.

Before Robertus could say anything else, Hannibal finally spoke.

'This is William Graham, my roommate and friend.'

Robertus' eyebrows popped up in surprise, but Hannibal merely stared at him defiantly, as though daring him to mention his former muteness to Will. Robertus never would, he wasn't that cruel. Hannibal seemed to think that most people were, regardless of past actions.

'It's nice to meet you, William,' Robertus inclined his head at the boy.

'I, um, prefer Will,' Will murmured. He went to his bed to dispose of his bag and books, and kick his shoes off. Robertus watched him unabashedly, curious about the young boy who could make his nephew speak without even trying. Hannibal was prone to bouts of silence, but it seemed that Will hadn't experienced them himself. Which meant that Hannibal hadn't felt the need to ever retreat into his own head while spending time with Will.

Truly curious.

Hannibal re-took his seat at his desk, and turned to his uncle to begin listing off all of his classes, his assignments, and the marks he'd been getting, acting as though mere seconds ago he hadn't been staring at his uncle with lips completely sealed. Robertus let it happen, though, not wanting Hannibal to revert once more. Will seemed happy to sit on his bed, legs folded beneath him, with a large novel open across his lap, not at all bothered by not being included in Hannibal's conversation with his uncle.

That was until Hannibal _dragged _him into conversation, mentioning the classes that Will truly excelled in, so much so that he and Hannibal were fighting for top place in a number of them.

Will blushed and stammered his way through explanations, constantly trying to downplay his intelligence and talk up Hannibal's. A shy, reserved boy, then, with social anxieties that set him apart from his school mates. But not from Hannibal, it seemed.

Eventually Will was allowed to go back to his novel, and Robertus told Hannibal about France and Germany, about Murasaki and the various luncheons and meetings the two had shared with others in their social class. Hannibal had never been particularly bothered, nor intrigued, by the high society Robertus and his wife belonged to, but he enjoyed the finer things like opera and theatre, and had a good head for interacting with the socialites that frequented them. Robertus had no doubt that one day, when he passed and the Count title was left to his nephew, Hannibal would easily slip into the role of well-bred bachelor, able to easily navigate his way around the gold-diggers and social climbers.

Hannibal stood suddenly just after Robertus had promised that he and Murasaki were taking good care of his harpsichord, and the elder Lecter raised an eyebrow.

'It's tea time,' Hannibal explained, 'will you be accompanying me to the dining hall?'

Robertus nodded. He needed to get back to New York, had only visited _Chilton's _to discuss Hannibal's behaviour with his headmaster. He stood and waited, but Hannibal was moving towards Will, leaving Robertus the choice to obviously listen to their conversation or wait just outside the room.

He chose the latter, knowing how important manners were to Hannibal- and how important privacy was to teenagers in general- but couldn't help but spy and overhear Hannibal's brief conversation with young Will Graham.

'Will you be joining us?' Hannibal asked softly.

Will had looked up, and was holding eye contact with Hannibal easily. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he said, 'No, I don't feel up to the crowd.'

'Very well,' Hannibal replied, 'I shall bring you back something.'

Will huffed, but clearly knew better than to argue with Hannibal; the boy was as stubborn as he was odd, Robertus knew from experience. What truly shocked Robertus was the way Hannibal bent down to press his lips to Will's in a soft, chaste kiss that was over almost as quickly as it had started. It left Will blushing, and Hannibal looking highly pleased with himself as he exited the room, leaving Will alone. Robertus avoided Hannibal's eyes and walked with his nephew through the dormitory.

'So...' Robertus mused just after they'd stepped out into the early evening, the sun quickly fading and painting the sky with brilliant streaks of blue, purple and orange.

'Yes?' Hannibal queried.

'Will Graham seems like a fine young lad,' Robertus said. He wanted Hannibal to know, without Robertus saying it, that he approved of whatever relationship Hannibal did or would have with the other boy. Robertus knew that Hannibal would do what he wanted, regardless of what the Count thought or ordered, but he also wanted Hannibal to know that he _did _approve. Hannibal had gone too long without a caring adult, and in the years that he'd lived with Robertus, he still seemed to have trouble believing that he was loved.

'I see,' Hannibal mused slowly, eyes fixed on the path ahead of them. 'Thank you, Uncle.'

Robertus nodded, and let the conversation drop. He didn't doubt that he'd be meeting Will Graham again; something told him that he and Hannibal would be together for years to come. Whether that was as friends, or something else, remained to be seen, and honestly Robertus didn't care one way or the other. As long as Hannibal wasn't alone, was with someone who liked and _understood _him, that was all that mattered.

He wondered if he could snap a picture on his mobile of Hannibal and Will together before he left. It would make Murasaki coo for days to come.

* * *

**Author's Note: **YOU PEOPLE AND YOUR KIND WORDS! *SHAKES FIST* Anywho, yes, I have decided to continue this story. However, it'll simply be drabbles/one-shots set in this 'verse. I have way too many WIPs going to even try and come up with a proper plot, but I really want to continue exploring Hannibal and Will's relationship in this 'verse. It's rather fascinating trying to construct Hannibal Lecter before he becomes the suave, dark man he is in the show.

Also, the updates probably won't be regular; they'll only happen when I come up with an idea.

Cheers,

{Dreamer}


	3. Let's Talk About Will

**Summary: **Will thinks about Hannibal and their relationship, and about life in general.

**Warnings: **None

* * *

Will and Hannibal hadn't talked about their first kiss, or the subsequent ones, of which there had been plenty. Will didn't really see the need to, and he supposed that Hannibal didn't, either. It wasn't like Will wanted anyone else; actually, he'd never wanted _anyone_. He'd had urges like most sixteen-year-old boys, but had never felt remotely close enough to anyone to act on said urges. Most came about in the morning after a deep sleep, the usual biological reactions that happened to a lot of teenage boys.

Hannibal was different. He made Will want things, things he hadn't wanted from anyone a day in his life. Hannibal was all charm and wit, a seemingly ordinary teenager wrapped up in a neat, olive-skinned package. His cheeks looked like they could cut glass, and his eyes, such an odd, alluring shade of reddish-brown, were dark enough to swallow Will- and anyone stupid enough to stare too long- whole.

Will liked that about Hannibal, though; his oddness, his intelligence, the way he could mingle with a large group of similarly-aged boys yet be so completely, utterly different. Will was like that too, only he didn't fit in nearly as easily. Hannibal had the ability to _look _normal, even though he wasn't; even though, given enough time, people were able to figure out that he _wasn't_.

Will couldn't even look at another person, at least not in the eyes, and he couldn't help but hunch in on himself, make sure that nobody accidentally touched him, drawing his attention. It was something Will had learned over his short life; be small, and people wouldn't notice you. Be small, and people would leave you alone.

Well, for the most part. The teachers were content to leave Will be as long as he handed in his homework and didn't disrupt class. Only Dr Bloom seemed to take an interest in him, as though she hoped that her techniques could make Will a real boy. And the bullies- kids like Tobias Budge and Abel Gideon- saw Will as someone to harass for shits and giggles. Will wanted to stab them with a fork. Many forks. In the eyes.

Will sighed and glanced out the window of Dr Bloom's office. He was there for his regular session, something that Dr Bloom had insisted upon regularly ever since Will had snapped in class and tried to throw a chair at Garrett Jacob Hobbs. He hadn't been expelled, thankfully, but it had been bad enough for his father to go along with whatever Dr Bloom wanted.

'What's on your mind, Will?' Dr Bloom asked. She sounded sincere, and Will was sure that she was, but she was still a psychiatrist using the usual tricks to dig into his head. They were all the same, and at the end of the day Dr Bloom was there to make sure he didn't act out again. She and Dr Chilton also seemed to be fascinated by his and Hannibal's friendship.

Will supposed that he couldn't blame them. He'd been at _Chilton's _for three years, and hadn't made a single friend in that entire time. Suddenly Hannibal Lecter, a strange foreign boy, wandered in and befriended Will over two classes. And shortly after that he tried to choke Tobias Budge for throwing mashed potatoes at Will's head. Anybody would want to study _that _relationship.

'Will?' Dr Bloom tried again.

'My father,' Will only partially lied. 'I'm thinking about my father.' It was true, but he was mostly thinking about Hannibal and their seemingly random kisses. But he didn't want to talk to her about Hannibal. His and Hannibal's relationship was for them only.

'Your father,' Dr Bloom echoed, rather than outright ask. She wanted him to elaborate on his own, and Will had to hold back an eye roll.

'Yeah,' Will shrugged, 'just wondering if I'm going home for the holidays or staying here.'

David Graham was a self-made billionaire, having documented some of his fishing trips when Will was younger, barely out of diapers. The home-made tapes had been a hit all over the internet, and had spawned proper television productions, which had led to David creating his own brands of fishing equipment. A simple passion for fishing had snowballed into a huge, multi-million dollar company, and David had only built on his wealth since then.

They had been close, once, Will remembered. Despite his tight schedule, David had always gone out of his way to listen to his son, be there for him. He'd ignited a similar interest in fishing in a young Will, and they'd whiled away hours upon hours fishing all across America. That was before, though; before David started dating again, before his work became more important than his son.

David wasn't a bad man. He wasn't even a terrible father. He just wasn't a hands-on father, having little to do with Will's life as a whole. He made sure Will was safe and properly taken care of, but that was it. An absent father, rather than a real one, or a terrible one. A part of Will would have preferred if David was abusive; at least that way he could hate the man. Life would be simpler that way, Will felt.

'You stayed here last year,' Dr Bloom said, once again forcing Will to talk about his feelings, rather than pry the answers from him herself. Will liked her, but she could be really annoying.

'Yeah,' Will repeated. 'It wasn't too bad; quiet, and I like quiet. I got all my work done without any distractions.'

'Other things are just as important as work, Will,' Dr Bloom said. Will glanced at her, and Dr Bloom smiled softly. Will didn't return the gesture, his eyes already on her fluffy shirt. They soon moved onto the black blazer that matched her tight, knee-length skirt. Will had heard some of the other boys chattering about how _sexy _Dr Bloom was. Will just didn't get it.

_Hannibal with his shirt off is sexier_, a tiny corner of Will's mind whispered, and Will ducked his head as he felt a flush work up his neck and cheeks.

'I suppose,' he coughed, hoping that Dr Bloom couldn't see his blush. 'Cause then she'd _ask _about it and want to _discuss it_ and it'd lead to discussing _Hannibal_. Again, it wasn't a subject Will wanted to talk about with anyone other than Hannibal himself.

'Would you like to discuss the holidays?' Dr Bloom asked when Will offered nothing else, like he had a choice. It was either his absent father, his strange relationship with an equally strange boy, or his many, many issues. The absent father was probably the lesser of Will's evils.

Will shrugged one shoulder and leaned back against the comfortable sofa, letting his eyes drift back to the window, out of which he could vaguely see part of the courtyard and the _Brennan _building. Classes would be over for the day soon, meaning that Will only had a few more minutes with Dr Bloom before he'd be free for another week. He wished that he could figure out how to get away for good, but he'd been seeing Dr Bloom since he'd enrolled in _Chilton's Academy_, so he didn't hold out much hope. Maybe Hannibal could give him some tips; he'd already managed to get Dr Bloom to drop their sessions from twice a week to once.

'It's sometimes difficult to talk about what we want, especially with the people close to us,' Dr Bloom said smoothly, as though Will hadn't been ignoring her for the most part of their allotted hour. 'But if we're brave enough, the rewards can be worth the hardship.'

_Right_. So if Will asked his dad to spend the entire two week holiday period together, he'd totally go for it? _No deal_. It'd take three separate phone calls to get through David's personal assistant to the man himself, and then he'd say that he had _plans _or _business trips_; he'd be spending the time with his latest girlfriend, Nadia, and her two daughters, who were so well-adjusted that they made Will look like a mental patient. That or David would be travelling across America, making appearances and signing books and equipment and a boat or two. He'd gone from fisherman to celebrity, father to distant relative Will only saw every other Christmas.

'Yeah, maybe,' Will decided to say instead. Maybe that'd get Dr Bloom off his back. When he glanced at her, not meeting her eyes directly but able to see her facial features, he saw that she was smiling, apparently pleased with his progress. Will wondered how she'd managed to remain so happy and positive when she spent her days dealing with the same bullshit from teenage boys day after day, year after year. Will would have snapped his first day. 'I was, um, thinking of going into town this weekend,' he continued slowly, and Dr Bloom perked up; it was rare that Will offered information voluntarily, and he saw the woman lean forward, completely focused on Will, 'maybe have a look around, go to some stores.'

'I think that's a wonderful idea, Will,' Dr Bloom smiled at her. 'I know that Brian and Jimmy are going, too.'

Will couldn't contain his sigh. Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price were in the same year as Will and Hannibal, and the four shared the same mathematics class. They were nice enough guys, though Will thought that Zeller was a dick, most of the time, and the three had been friendly since Will had enrolled at _Chilton's_. They were part of the small percentage of students who didn't go out of their way to mock Will, and managed to even be friendly on the few occasions that Will socialised. The two seemed to be in awe of Hannibal, who was never far from Will's side, and the four of them often chatted away in class when they'd all completed their work. Well, Hannibal, Zeller and Price chatted, while Will was quite happy to just sit quietly and be in their presence.

'I think it would be good for you, Will,' Dr Bloom said. 'You need to socialise more, and both Brian and Jimmy have been nothing but kind to you.'

'Yeah,' Will muttered, 'um, maybe? I dunno, I'll see what happens.'

Dr Bloom leaned forward again, and Will bit the inside of his cheek to stop from glaring. He knew what was coming

'I know that you and Hannibal are good friends,' she began, 'and it's great that you two are getting along so well. But it'd also be good for you- for _both _of you- to make other friends.'

'Why?' Will practically snapped. 'What's wrong with either of us being the only friend the other has?'

Dr Bloom looked mildly taken aback by his attitude, but soldiered on. 'You and Hannibal would both benefit from interacting with other boys your age,' Dr Bloom said, 'and maybe even some of the girls from the all-girls school a few miles away.'

_Mason Lodge _was similar to _Chilton's Academy _in almost every way, only it was an all-girls school closer to town, and wasn't run by a complete idiot. Will had never liked Dr Chilton- the man was downright creepy, and took too much notice of Will- but he hadn't been able to talk about it until Hannibal had come along. Hannibal despised Dr Chilton just as much as Will, and they often spent their more boring classes passing notes that contained hand-drawn images of a decapitated Dr Chilton.

Will supposed that it should be faintly worrying, that he and Hannibal seemed to resort to bloody violence so easily, but he honestly didn't care. Hannibal was different, like him; dark and odd, and just _not normal_. So they did what they pleased, and didn't speak about it to people like Dr Bloom who'd probably separate them.

Dr Bloom was still talking, but Will only caught the end of her sentence; '… some lovely young ladies who could show you around town. I know that Hannibal hasn't been there yet, and you rarely have. It'd be fun.'

It'd be torture for someone who hated society as a whole, like Will and Hannibal both did, but Will didn't voice that thought. He just shrugged and offered Dr Bloom a shaky smile, as though he would think about it, and eventually cave in under the pressure of an adult's "good idea". When Dr Bloom smiled and turned, their session officially over, Will rolled his eyes.

He was finally let go and practically fled down the hallway when he was out of Dr Bloom's sight. He burst out into the courtyard and walked across it, breathing in deeply and shivering as a cold wind blew through his school blazer, chilling the skin beneath a few layers. Fall was well and truly under way, winter just around the corner, and with it the Christmas holidays. Before then, though, there was the mid-term break and then a few more weeks of classes.

Will wondered if Hannibal was going home for the holidays. He'd learned that Hannibal's uncle, Robertus Lecter, owned a few properties around the globe, though he seemed to be centred in Europe, most permanently in France. Will bet that France was gorgeous, and Hannibal could probably speak French perfectly, his accent more suited to those types of languages than English. Hannibal would wander down narrow French streets, eating the local food and smiling at the people who passed, perhaps not meaning it but doing it because it was polite.

He'd be there, far away from _Chilton's_, were Will would no doubt be left behind. Like usual.

It wasn't anything Will wasn't used to, but it still sent a stab of longing through his chest. He had to wonder what it was like, to actually be _included_; to be thought about by another person. He wondered how other people felt when their friends and family called, including them in plans because their presence was wanted. Will was only ever wanted by the strays he fed around _Chilton's _and during the rare weeks he was home in Baltimore, his dad's main residence.

'William.'

It was barely spoken, the boy a few feet behind Will, but Will heard it all the same. He finally had a genuine smile to offer as he back-tracked to fall into step with Hannibal, the boy making his way back from one of his many science classes.

'How was your session?' Hannibal asked.

'The same as always,' Will said.

'Bland and predictable?' Hannibal guessed.

'With a smattering of _leave me the hell alone_,' Will commented, making Hannibal chuckle softly. 'How were classes?' he asked. They shared English, Spanish, Advanced Math, and Gym, all of which Hannibal excelled at. Will wasn't too shabby either, but Hannibal was clearly ahead of him in both Spanish and Gym. Will didn't have a gift for languages, and while he wasn't unhealthy, he was nowhere near Hannibal's level of fitness. The taller boy did sets of push ups, sit ups, and other exercises that Will couldn't name every morning, and every evening he went for a run around the school grounds. Coupled together with his various stretches and the careful, almost obsessive way Hannibal planned his meals, and the European was the healthiest, fittest student on campus. Will knew. He'd seen him without a shirt on.

Well, that brought a lovely blush back, and Will ducked his head.

'What are you thinking about that makes you colour so?' Hannibal asked instead of answering Will's question, amusement obvious in his accented voice.

'N-Nothing,' Will stuttered, and then cursed himself. His stutter was brought on by nerves, which was why he could barely answer a question in class without doing it. Hannibal made Will feel safe, _comfortable_, but Will still stuttered when he was embarrassed. Unfortunately, Hannibal seemed to _love _an embarrassed Will. Soon, very soon, Will would find out what embarrassed _Hannibal_, and the taller teen would never live it down.

'I'm sure,' Hannibal near purred, but thankfully seemed content to drop the subject. Will breathed out a soft sigh of relief that Hannibal heard- it made him smile, just slightly.

After a brief discussion, the two decided to get meals to go so they could eat near the lake, their unofficial "spot" since their first kiss. When they entered the dining hall they ran into Budge and his gang almost immediately, the lot of them giving Will filthy looks. None of them dared meet Hannibal's gaze, though; well, none of them except Budge.

The dark-skinned boy practically radiated violence as he and Hannibal passed each other, but Budge wasn't an idiot; he knew that Hannibal was the bigger predator, better than Budge in every way, and while a bully-borderline-psychopath, Budge _did _like living. He wasn't about to start anything with Hannibal, not after their first confrontation.

It made Will smirk, and the gesture didn't drop, not even when Budge looked his way. Budge's eyes widened in surprise, before narrowing, Will practically hearing the, _Well, what do we have here?_ that Budge hadn't voiced. Will wasn't quite sure what he was, either. A predator, definitely, but not like Hannibal, not even like Budge. Just dangerous in ways that hadn't been revealed yet; Will had yet to be _poked _in just the right manner.

Hannibal seemed pleased when the entire exchange- barely ten, twelve seconds- passed, as though excited by the prospect of Will finally growing a backbone, or perhaps giving into that darkness that each boy glimpsed in the other. Something in Will purred at the very idea, but he wasn't sure what it was. In time, he supposed that he'd find out; Hannibal clearly had a good grasp on his own monster. Maybe he'd bring Will's out, too.

Soon they were sitting by the lake on a plaid blanket that Hannibal had unfolded from his messenger bag, their dinner- food that could be eaten by hand- spread before them. Well, Will's dinner could be eaten by hand; fish and chips that usually needed a fork, but Will didn't mind getting his fingers dirty. Hannibal, on the other hand, had gotten salad and soup, and had stolen a fork and spoon from the dining hall before they left. Because _god forbid _Hannibal Lecter touched food with his bare hands. The world would end!

Will snickered to himself and ignored Hannibal's narrowed eyes; he didn't doubt that Hannibal knew _exactly _what Will found so amusing.

They mostly ate in silence, staring across the lake and at the still light sky, occasional thoughts being passed between them, sometimes even answers to homework problems. When they were done Hannibal laid on his back, one arm behind his head to prop it up, and Will made himself comfortable at the older boy's side, curled with his head on Hannibal's firm stomach. He sighed when strong, olive-tinted fingers stroked through his hair, twisting the strands like Will was an instrument that Hannibal had mastered.

They had fallen into their friendship- or whatever their relationship was, exactly- so quickly and so easily, that Will was half-convinced that they'd met in another life. Not that he necessarily believed in reincarnation or anything, but Will had _never _gotten along with someone this well, and this quickly, in his life.

Hannibal started scratching at Will's scalp, and Will hummed, arched his back, and heard Hannibal chuckle.

'I'm not a cat,' he mumbled, eyes sliding closed as he finally relaxed after a stressful day of school and sessions.

'You're remarkably similar to one,' Hannibal replied like he always did. If anything, _Hannibal _was the feline; with his pristine clothes, ever clean person, and gracefulness. He resembled a cat more thoroughly than Will ever would. Or maybe a tiger. A lion?

'Are you a tiger or a lion?' Will asked. Hannibal's hand momentarily paused in Will's hair. 'Or maybe a panther,' Will murmured.

'Why are you comparing me to large cats?' Hannibal questioned.

''Cause you're like one,' Will replied.

He could hear Hannibal's smile when he said, 'Am I now?'

'Yup.'

'I see,' Hannibal mused, 'and nothing I say will change your opinion?'

'Nope,' Will replied. Hannibal chuckled. 'So, come on,' Will continued, tapping Hannibal's thigh with one hand, 'lion or tiger or panther?'

'Or leopard or cheetah or lynx,' Hannibal retorted.

'Smart ass.'

'Rude, Will,' Hannibal deplored, tugging gently at Will's hair. Will chuckled against Hannibal's belly. 'Which do you think I'm more like?' Hannibal questioned. 'Am I the lion in the room, or the panther hiding in the foliage?'

'Hmm...' Will hummed, giving the question some serious thought. 'Lion,' he decided.

'Oh?'

'Mm,' Will nodded, careful not to jostle Hannibal's full stomach too much. ''Cause you're clearly the king of whatever jungle you wander into. You're strong enough to hunt on your own, but clever enough to live in a pride.'

'Than perhaps that makes me a chameleon,' Hannibal suggested.

Will laughed and rolled over, eyes immediately meeting Hannibal's. It was rare that he couldn't maintain eye contact with Hannibal. Something just always, _always _drew him in, the soft maroon seeming to grow brighter, redder, the longer Will looked. 'What animal am I?' he decided to ask.

Hannibal tilted his head as he thought, his hand resuming its pace through Will's curls. 'Mongoose,' he eventually said. Will raised his eyebrows.

'Really?'

'Indeed,' Hannibal nodded. 'You're the mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.'

Will burst into a fit of giggles, which made Hannibal smile at him, eyes warm as Will slowly got himself under control. 'What does that even _mean_?'

'Don't be obtuse, dear Will,' Hannibal tutted. 'I know you're doing it on purpose.'

'Okay,' Will agreed easily. He laid back down, still smiling. 'Who are the snakes I'm protecting you from, Dr Lecter?'

Hannibal answered Will's smile with a small one of his own, one that was always brought out to play when Will called him Dr Lecter. 'The snakes,' Hannibal said, 'are those who don't understand me; those dangerous enough to do something about me.'

'Can't have that,' Will said. 'I'll protect you.'

'And I you,' Hannibal replied. He shifted down, pushing Will off of his stomach with a gentle twist of his hand. He was soon laying by Will's side, eyes meeting directly, legs tangling atop the soft plaid blanket. When Hannibal leaned forward, Will met him halfway, as always Hannibal's thin lips soft, only slightly chapped. He tasted faintly like the salad he'd eaten after his soup, the dressing still slightly tangy on his tongue.

Will hummed at the taste, and felt Hannibal smile before he leaned forward, easily pushing Will onto his back. Hannibal hovered over him, but Will pulled him down, wanting to feel Hannibal's weight on his chest. Like always, Hannibal let himself be manoeuvred. He was a very controlled person, Will had known that even before their first conversation. But he always made allowances for Will; like with Will, Hannibal didn't mind giving up part of his control.

It made Will feel wanted, needed, powerful. Like maybe, for just a short time, he was a lion, too.


End file.
